


Love On The Border

by Victorious56



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clover begins to question his world view, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Qrow is very sure of himself, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29564475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victorious56/pseuds/Victorious56
Summary: A routine guard-post inspection becomes anything but, when Clover interviews a man who is apprehended trying to cross the border.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	Love On The Border

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrianneABanana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrianneABanana/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Banan and thank you for all your supportive words 🙂
> 
> The idea for this came to me when listening to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q2yExDv9TOE) by Judie Tzuke.

Clover stared through the window of the Broadwood border guard-post. The immediate surroundings were brightly lit, yet beyond the pool of white light anything could be moving. He had heard the stories, yet had never encountered any of the savages who were said to occupy the forest beyond the border.

"You can carry out your usual patrol. I'll be monitoring the cameras, and reviewing your logs. Just do what you'd normally do." He smiled in an encouraging manner at the two younger officers. "I'm sure the inspection will be fine. There's never been a problem here... not that I'm aware of, anyway." He tapped the desk with a pen. "How long does your patrol usually take?"

"Thirty minutes, sir," replied Greenway. She glanced at Ramos, who nodded his agreement.

"Very well, off you go, then."

"Yes sir," the two guards chorused. They turned and left the hut, torches held firmly before them as they made their way to the edges of the illuminated area.

Clover pressed the switch on the electric kettle, his eyes flicking between the windows and the four small monitor screens on the wall. As he put some instant coffee and two spoonfuls of sugar into a mug, he watched the guards disappear from one screen, to appear a little later on another. The night was quiet, save for the rumbling boil of the kettle.

As Clover stirred his coffee, he noticed a commotion on one of the monitors. Greenway stood with her weapon covering Ramos, who was crouched down, cuffing someone currently lying on the ground. _Hmm, not such a by-the-books night after all_. Clover was almost glad— these inspections were generally very dull. As he watched them guiding the prisoner back to the guard-post, he sipped his coffee thoughtfully. _This should make staying awake easier, anyway_.

A few minutes passed, then a scuffle of boots outside the door was followed by the entrance of three people, only one of whom seemed comfortable with the situation. The two guards were red-faced and scowling, and Ramos pushed the prisoner forwards into the room.

"Caught him trying to sneak across into the forest, sir. He won't say what he was doing."

"Well done, you two." Clover leant back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. He looked up at the figure before him, and wondered why the man was smiling.

"You look more pleased with yourself than someone in handcuffs has a right to," he began pleasantly.

The man's smile broadened. "They're pretty comfortable, as handcuffs go. I've had worse."

Clover's eyes widened, and he pressed his lips together firmly. It wouldn't do for the prisoner to think he could get out of this with humour. Even if Clover's lips had begun to twitch a little.

"Sit him in the chair, and cuff his hands to it." Clover reached for his coffee, taking a large mouthful. It was only just hot enough to be palatable.

The prisoner was secured suitably, and Greenway and Ramos stood rigidly either side of the chair.

"You may continue your patrol. I will question him."

"But, sir—"

"Don't worry, Ramos. I have my weapon; he won't cause me any problems."

With a doubtful look at both Clover and the prisoner, the two guards left the hut. Clover drained his mug, grimacing at the tepid drink.

"Would you like some coffee... what's your name, exactly?"

"I won't tell you exactly, but you can call me Qrow."

"Would you like some coffee, Qrow?"

"No thanks. I prefer tea."

Clover narrowed his eyes as he scrutinised the man in the chair. "Qrow, was it? You're very confident given the position you're currently in."

Qrow raised his eyebrows, his face a mask of innocence. "I only expressed my hot drink preference," he replied mildly.

Clover smothered a splutter. The people he'd questioned before, after they'd been apprehended crossing the border illegally, were nothing like this man.

"You are in a measure of trouble here, you know." He found a second mug and set the kettle to boil once more, glancing at the other man.

" _You_ say that, yes. But I wasn't really doing anything."

"Do you take sugar?"

"No, thanks. No milk, either." Qrow smiled at Clover, an apparently genuine smile which crinkled the corners of his eyes in an attractive way. Clover's gaze stayed on him a moment longer than strictly necessary, before his attention turned to the kettle. Once the mugs were topped up, he sat down in the chair opposite the prisoner.

"So, Qrow... what _are_ you doing out here, so late at night?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I was out for a stroll?"

Clover's lips thinned. "Is that the best you can do?"

"Of course not. But there's no point in me wasting my best material on someone who might be happy with a simpler explanation." He smiled once more, and Clover didn't know whether to smile back, or throw something at him.

"You're an infuriating man, you know."

"Am I? Do you like it?" He winked at Clover, who gawped at him, unable to think of anything sensible to say.

"I— here's your tea." Clover stood suddenly, feeling a warmth wash over his cheeks. He removed the teabag, dropping it in the bin before picking up the mug. Pausing, he set it down again.

"It'll be a bit hot yet."

"You're very considerate... I might come here again. Although the seating arrangements could do with some improvement." He wriggled his wrists, jangling the cuffs against the chair. "And I might have a little difficulty holding my mug."

Clover hadn't considered that.

"I'm going to remove one of the cuffs... and if you even think about throwing the hot tea over me, I won't hesitate to shoot."

Qrow favoured him with a wide smile, and Clover noticed his eyes once more. Mentally chastising himself, he unlocked the cuff on Qrow's right wrist.

"What if I told you I was left-handed?" Qrow looked up at him, a small pout on his lips.

"I'd tell you _too bad_ ," returned Clover. "Don't push me, Qrow. I'm being far too kind to you already." _And I'm not even sure why... except it_ does _break the monotony of yet another inspection_.

Clover moved the mug of tea to the edge of the desk. If he stretched, Qrow could just reach it. With one hand on his pistol, Clover took his coffee and sipped it slowly. The hot liquid almost scalded his tongue, and he hummed appreciatively.

"You like yours hot, then." Qrow's tone was casual. It was almost as if they were sitting opposite one another in a coffee shop. Clover marvelled at his audacity, yet didn't find it annoying.

"They could have shot you, you know. If they'd been startled by your sudden appearance." He frowned at the seated man. "I hope whatever you were doing, is worth that kind of risk."

"It is." Qrow reached for his tea, and sat back, resting the mug on the arm of the chair. He regarded Clover seriously. "I don't risk my life lightly."

There was a tension in the room as both men sipped their drinks, eyes fixed on each other.

Despite his promise to shoot if required, Clover was not a trigger-happy soldier. They were not at war, and he always preferred a non-lethal outcome to a situation if possible. Occasionally, if he'd had a bad day, he wondered whether he was in the right profession at all. Then he would remember the pride in his parents' eyes when he'd received his commission, and these thoughts were thrust to one side.

He drained his mug and put it down with a clatter. "Right, here's what will happen. First, you'll drink your tea up quickly. Also, you'll give me a good reason why I shouldn't take you back for processing. If you can satisfy me— what?"

Qrow's smirking face distracted Clover from his stern speech.

"Shouldn't have a problem with that part." And he winked again.

Clover was exasperated. "Look, I'm trying to help you here. I'm beginning to wonder why, though. Do you _want_ to get yourself arrested?"

Qrow's face became serious. "No, I don't. I can... _satisfy_ you, I'm sure." He took his mug once more and slurped the tea noisily. "There, I'm done."

Clover peered at the monitors. "So, give me your good reason. You have two minutes."

Qrow tried to fold his arms, wincing as he pulled his left wrist against the cuff. Resting his free hand on his knee, he said, "I'm trying to help the indigenous people living in the forest. You know, the ones we _relocated_ so the city could be expanded? Their lives are desperately hard, so I... help them, in various ways."

Clover's eyes widened as he listened. "But... they don't live in the forest! They were rehoused... they have their own villages. I remember reading about it, when I was a kid..." He frowned as he tried to recall what he'd read and seen, over twenty years ago. "If there's anyone there, they're savages, not—" 

"I've got news for you, Ebi." Qrow looked up from his examination of Clover's name tape. "That's not what happened." His face was impassive, but Clover caught the slight narrowing of his eyes and the firm set of his mouth.

Clover stared at him. "I don't believe it. They wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't what? Lie to the people? Tell them what they wanted to hear, so they wouldn't have to feel any guilt?"

A flicker on one of the monitors caught Clover's eye. "They're coming back... you need to go."

Qrow's eyebrows disappeared into his spiky fringe. "You're releasing me? Won't that be a problem for you?"

"Don't you worry about me." Clover unfastened the remaining cuff. "Just— go." He pushed Qrow towards the door, and the former prisoner slipped out silently. Within seconds he had disappeared into the shadows.

Clover stood staring for a few moments, then stepped back inside and washed up the mugs. He was drying the second one as the guards re-entered the hut. Greenway looked round the room in astonishment.

"Where is he?"

"I released him. After extensive questioning, I was satisfied he was not dangerous." Clover stood a little taller and fixed them both with a stern look. "But good work, both of you, in apprehending him. I'll be sure to mention it in my report." He gave them a small nod.

The surprised look the two had exchanged turned to smiles. "Thank you, sir," they said in unison.

"Very good. Now then, let's review the hours you spend out here. There may be a more effective way of managing the shifts."

With a glance out of the window into the darkness, Clover sat at the desk and motioned for the other two to be seated.

❖

It was a month before Clover was due to check on the outpost near the forest again. He had a busy work schedule, and did not spend a lot of time thinking about what had happened there with Qrow.

At least, he persuaded himself that once or twice a day wasn't a lot of time.

Qrow's remarks, brief though they were, had disturbed him. Had he been taken in, all those years ago? Fed a comforting story about the indigenous population, which he accepted with the naïveté of a young soldier keen not to rock the boat.

Clover wondered if the boat deserved to be rocked.

He'd tried to do some discreet research, but facts were frustratingly hard to unearth. He found a news article which documented a violent demonstration against the expansion of the city in the early days, although the tone of it suggested the blame lay with the protesters rather than law enforcement. Clover recalled a saying he'd heard once.

_History is written by the victors._

If that were true, it was scarcely surprising the protesters were shown as the ones at fault.

As well as thinking about what Qrow had said, Clover also spent some time thinking about how he looked. How he sounded. His spiky hair, his teasing wink...

When the day came for Clover to visit Broadwood again, he told himself the anticipation he felt was no more than that of a soldier looking forward to inspecting his subordinates.

_Yeah, right._

  


The visit was textbook stuff, all was in order and Clover had very little to record in his report, other than tick the boxes. After a few hours, during which nothing unusual happened, he decided to stretch his legs.

Ramos offered to accompany him, but Clover declined. "It's best you stay here. I have my pistol, and I'll be careful, of course. Given how quiet you've had it here lately, I'd be very surprised to encounter anything tonight."

Clover set out at a slow pace, traversing the area surrounding the hut before venturing further towards the forest. He held his torch but kept it switched off for now, allowing his eyes to acclimatise to the faint moonlight. As he reached the furthest point of his patrol, he paused, listening intently. Holding his breath, he waited, but could hear nothing more than the faint rustlings of small forest creatures away to his left.

Feeling disappointed, although he didn't know exactly what he'd been hoping for, he started to slowly retrace his steps. He'd taken no more than three paces before his mouth was covered by a firm hand, and his body held in a tight embrace, pinning his arms.

"Waiting for someone?" The husky voice, speaking softly against his ear, sent a thrill along his spine.

"Qrow?" His voice was a mumble into the man's palm, and he felt a mouth press closer to his ear.

"Hope you're not disappointed. If I take my hand away, d'you promise not to scream?"

Clover nodded. Qrow dropped his hand and moved round to face Clover.

"I wouldn't _scream_ ," said Clover, indignantly.

Qrow tapped his teeth with one finger, a thoughtful look on his face. "No, maybe not. Bet you can make a noise when you want to, though." His sly grin, and his words, triggered a warmth in Clover's abdomen, and he rubbed his face.

"I— it's nice to see you, too." His voice was a little unsteady but he made sure to maintain eye contact with the other. _He's not getting this_ all _his own way._

"So, what brings you out my way, soldier-boy?"

"Uh, just a routine inspection. But— what are _you_ doing here? Should I be arresting you?"

"Always with the cuffs." Qrow sighed. "You seem to have a thing about tying people up." He looked at Clover, his face innocent.

Clover spluttered. "You— well, I don't even know what to say. You're the cheekiest—"

"I aim for cheeky. But only with those who deserve it." Qrow raised a hand and pinched Clover's cheek very gently. "I bet you can be cheeky, too." His voice was lower, and softer, as he brushed his fingers over the faint red mark he'd made.

"Qrow—" Clover moved forwards, and was about to take Qrow's other hand in his, when Qrow stepped backwards.

"Uh, time I was off, Captain. See you soon!"

Before Clover could reply, he had vanished amongst the trees.

Clover's fingers traced across his cheek. With a glance into the forest, where all was still, he began a slow walk back to the hut.

❖

Clover paid an inspection visit to Broadwood monthly. He would normally have delegated most of these trips, but he no longer wanted to. He just wanted to see Qrow.

Each time, Qrow was there. Each time, they had a brief exchange. Always flirting, always suggestive.

Each time, Clover wanted there to be more.

Finally, he decided to take matters into his own hands. On his next visit, before Qrow could catch him from behind, he turned sharply, pulling Qrow into a firm embrace. Qrow raised an eyebrow, and a smile curved his mouth.

"I wondered how long it would take."

"For what?"

"For you to do what you've been itching to do for weeks."

Clover gazed at him. _I'm still not sure if I want to throw him in jail, or— throw him onto my bed._

"You're very sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"Comes from years of observing people. I can generally work out what someone wants, pretty quickly. And it's easier if I want the same thing myself." His face was only inches from Clover's, their mouths so close...

"I'm just not sure this is a good idea." Clover's voice was quiet, and Qrow could feel his breath on his own lips.

"Define _good idea_. I can think of plenty of reasons why you should do exactly what you want to do. Right now." He ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes steady on Clover's.

"That's just _not fair._ " His breathing was laboured as he looked into Qrow's eyes. "Gods damn you, Qrow—"

Clover leant in, his mouth hard over Qrow's. He pressed against Qrow with some urgency, the weeks of pent-up longing desperate to find a way out.

Qrow slid his arms around Clover's waist. His lips parted, allowing a demanding tongue to slip in, pushing against his own as Clover moaned softly. One of Clover's hands reached up to cup Qrow's face, the other slid inside his jacket, moving against his chest.

Qrow hummed his appreciation, one leg edging between Clover's and making him gasp.

"Please... don't. I can't do anything with you, and it's driving me mad."

"Then let's spend some time together." Qrow murmured against his hair, and Clover felt his resolve evaporating.

"I can't, Qrow. I should be arresting you... this is crazy." With a shaky breath, he stepped back a little, one hand still on Qrow's chest. "I want to... so much." There was a crack in his voice, and Qrow looked at him, his face soft.

"Then come. Say you've got a lead... you're going undercover... spin some story. Come into the forest. Be with me, and see what is really happening here."

Clover stared at him. _Could he do this? Would it work?_

"I could try..." As he considered the idea, Qrow closed the gap between them once more. He traced a fingertip over Clover's lips, while his other hand slid into a back trouser pocket, cupping his butt and pulling him close.

"It'd be worth it. For lots of reasons."

Clover's tongue ran along the edge of Qrow's finger. "I know. And I'll try." He kissed the palm of Qrow's hand. "But how will I find you?"

"Just come here, like usual, but not in uniform. I'll be here." He kissed Clover softly on the mouth, withdrawing his hand after one final squeeze. He moved away, and Clover had to stop himself from chasing the warmth of Qrow's body.

"I'll be here," Qrow repeated. He blew a kiss to Clover, and with a quick grin, stepped away amongst the trees.

Clover ran his hands through his hair, willing his heart to return to normal. The painful thudding slowly subsided, and after a final glance at the shadows beneath the trees, he turned back to the hut.

The next time he came here would be different.


End file.
